


Mutatio

by neonfart



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, Talon Lena "Tracer" Oxton
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-11
Updated: 2017-09-11
Packaged: 2018-12-26 15:03:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12061416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neonfart/pseuds/neonfart
Summary: Tracer's memories get challenged.





	Mutatio

“I never understood how these things work.” A British accent voice came from the dark, short haired woman holding the door open for a tall, purple tinted woman as she exited a blacked out Rolls Royce. “The bloke is too obvious with how corrupted he is.” She added as a slender arm intertwined with her own. “I mean who just invites two of Talon’s most notorious assassins to a _charity_ event?” She asked, her tone lower as to not arouse any suspicion from the suited bodyguards at the entrance of a lavish estate, covered in white and gold paint. After being checked by the metal detector and a glare from the Frenchwoman by the brit’s side when the hand held machine had beeped over the short haired woman’s only anchor to this reality, the two had entered the building. Immediately they were greeted with women and men with expensive, maybe a bit too expensive, suits, dresses and jewelry. The first thing both Talon agents noticed was the lack of Omnics. With a look towards each-other, the two women had found their way to the very corrupt politician that had invited them.

 

“Ah Miss Lacroix, Miss Oxton, I’ve been awaiting your arrival. How have you been ladies?” The man, an influential senator in the American parliament, had said with a smile so deceitful even the two Talon agents had to keep a wince from escaping their facade of polite smiles. A soft, ditsy giggle came from the man’s side belonging to a blonde woman the brit had immediately recognized as their informant. Turning her glance to the Frenchwoman by her side, thankful for the dark aviators that covered her eyes, the time manipulator raised a blow at the total lack of recognition on her face. The sniper had always been a better actress than she. At least now it had made sense to the brit as to why they were invited. Who knew what dirt Talon had on this senator, and being invited by such an influential man to such a party the terrorist organization would be seen as even more legitimate. As the Frenchwoman and senator chatted away, words with double meanings and prods at each other being the most prevalent things in the conversation by what the now bored brit could make out. Not long after her eyes made contact with a familiar patch of ginger hair. At first the familiarity was confusing to her, as her mind hazily remembered bits and pieces of the time she might’ve known her, but when the woman had turned to her side to speak to another companion Tracer’s brows had furrowed as recognition hit her.

 

Sliding away from the conversation her partner and the senator were having was easy as she was not really a big part of it to begin with, offering only hums of approval and slight nods to it. Taking a drink from the waiter walking around the area, the brit weaved her way through the crowd before finding a spot she could observe the woman from. Taking a sip of her drink to remain as inconspicuous as possible, the time traveler let her eyes scan the area surrounding the ginger. She was there with two people, a tall woman with dark hair that reached her neck and a dark blue dress, who’s back was turned to the brit. Fareeha Amari confirmed to be attending. In front of her stood a slightly shorter blonde with a white gown, whose eyes would’ve made contact with the brit’s had it not been for her aviator glasses. Angela Ziegler confirmed to be attending. Two blue eyes narrowed, as if the blonde was trying to make out something or someone, before her attention returned to her companions. Thanking whatever being was looking after her the brit turned her attention to the woman who had just introduced herself to her. She figured the addition of this woman had relieved the blonde’s suspicions so she decided to humor her and turned on her charm. After a while, and a number with a fun night in promise, the time traveler had lost sight of the ginger. Trying to peek from the crowd a waiter had bumped into her, spilling champagne on her suit. With a groan and a glare towards the waiter, but not wanting to draw any attention to herself the brit turned to see if Angela and Fareeha had noticed her. The two women were still chatting together, quite adamantly in fact, so the short haired woman decided to make her way to the bathroom to clean up.

 

“Dumb fuckin’ bloke!” The brit grumbled as she ran water through the now ruined dress shirt with her hand, her aviators resting on the sink. “He’s lucky I didn’t blast his head o-“

 

“Oh my god Lena…” The time traveler’s body tensed at the name. “…is that…is that you?” The broken, soft and familiar voice tugged at Tracer’s memories. She didn’t turn to look to know who was talking to her. Before long she felt the tip of a finger make contact with her shoulder causing the brit to see red. Without thinking Tracer grabbed a soap bottle, smashing it into the sink and snapping around, pinning the woman to the stall door behind them, her arm over her chest to keep her from moving and the other pointing a large piece of glass at her neck. “L-Lena please… Calm down, I…” Terrified eyes looked into eyes that portrayed nothing but blind rage.

 

“Don’t…” Tracer hissed cutting the other woman off. “…don’t call me that!” She said her eyes practically glowing with red hot anger. “Lena died the day Overwatch left her to float around into nothingness!” Tracer’s tone was growing louder by the minute. “She died when you didn’t even bother to come visit her when she was around!” She was practically yelling now, pressing the shard of broken glass, now covered in the brit’s blood as she clenched it tightly in anger in her hand. “She died and Overwatch, _you_ killed her!”

 

“Lena please…I don’t know what Talon did to you, what they told you but that’s not how it went!” Emily was crying now, the words, the hatred she had never once seen in her girlfriend’s eyes, the pain in them, it all hurt so much. “Overwatch…Winston…They saved you! He built your accelerator! And I…” The rapid succession of words slowed down the last words being spoken softly, brokenly. “I visited you every day…I…”

 

“No…No you’re wrong! Talon saved me…they…” The words didn’t come out as certain as Tracer had wanted them to. Her grip on the glass faltered, and with the blood on it, it fell from the brit’s hand the pressure she kept on the ginger’s chest lightening. The look of confusion, the pain, the bloody hand that gripped at short, dark hair. It killed Emily seeing the woman this way

 

“Please Lena, try to remember you…”

 

“Soyez silencieux!” A commanding, cold tone, a voice that scared Emily and grounded Tracer. “Ça va, chérie. Let her go.”

 

 

“Who…” Her words were cut short as the brunette completely released her, her hands falling to her sides as she backed away slightly, only to collapse in the Frenchwoman’s awaiting arms. When Emily’s warm eyes met her cold ones, the Swedish woman pursed her lips. “I…I don’t know who you are but there’s Overwatch agents all around here and if you don’t let he-“  

 

“You seem to forget which terrorist organization our dear senator has a preference for chérie.” The woman’s tone was cold and calculated, brazen even as she led Tracer’s arm around her neck for support and hoisted her up to her feet.  

 

“But Overwatch isn’t a terro-“ Again she was cut off.  

 

“In the world’s eyes they are.” Emily frowned, her eyebrows furrowing in anger but kept herself cool when her eyes met Tracer’s almost completely limp body. Even if she were to call Fareeha and Angel over, hell even if they managed to catch the two Talon agents, Emily knew Tracer wouldn’t come out of it unscathed. Even if they manage to erase whatever Talon had done to her she knew the law would ruin any semblance of a normal life for the brit. Just as the Frenchwoman was about to exit the bathroom she spoke up. 

 

“Why?” Emily’s eyes were once again filled with tears. “Why did you stop her?”   

 

“Because she would never forgive herself for hurting you.” _Just like I never did._  

 

Those words rungs in Emily’s ears for months on end.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

“What happened?” A gruff voice that sounded like death if it could speak asked as eyes hidden behind a mask looked on in front of him.  

 

“You didn’t listen to me.” Was the simple answer that followed. 

 

“You were ready within three months Widowmaker.”  

 

“She isn’t me _Gabriel_.” The conversation shut down after that, Gabriel walking away from the sniper who continued to look on, and more importantly listen on. Tracer’s screams would’ve been heard through the entire base if it had not been for the soundproofing in the room. But she could hear them, the glass in front of her offering no protection from the cries and pleads for help, for mercy. She knew Talon would never grant her that, especially not after what happened. Widowmaker sympathized; she had been the first to be reformed, basically a lab rat as she fought with her own mind until finally giving in. While they had refined the process everyone was different. _Lena_ was different. She was kind, caring, heroic, loving…Loving…That was the first thing they had used against her. Widowmaker let a sigh of discontent at the bitter memory. How she had manipulated the chipper brit, led her into a trap by using her love. Closing her eyes she remembered the look of betrayal in Lena’s eyes. It hadn’t been Talon, not Overwatch, not the slipstream accident, not even Amélie…It had been Widowmaker that had killed Lena, betrayed her and handed her over to the people that ruined her. She had changed. She was no longer the sunshine in Widowmaker’s life, but a bitter memory of the hurt she had caused the one person that had loved her unconditionally. Even when she had been caught, she didn’t scream at Widowmaker, she didn’t hate her, she didn’t even fight her. She just accepted her decision. And now their relationship, their trust, their love, had been perverted into this web of manipulation and unwillingly willing subjugation.

 

 “Amélie!”  

 

“Désolé Lena.”

**Author's Note:**

> I thought I'd add a bit more info since you guys seem to enjoy the Talon!Tracer stuff


End file.
